


Beneficial Properties

by MamaMystique



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt, the murder couple looks after each other :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1901373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaMystique/pseuds/MamaMystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bedelia is sick.  Hannibal takes care of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneficial Properties

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted on Tumblr as "prompt where bedelia is sick and hannibal takes care of her :)"

"Hannibal I - I’m very sorry. I’m going to have to cancel our appointment tomorrow."

Even through the receiver of the phone, Hannibal could hear the nasally tone to his psychiatrist’s voice. He had only begun seeing her two months ago, and was finding himself increasingly interested in their time together. Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier had been the first name on a short list of psychiatrists he had considered for himself, for the purpose of keeping up appearances, and perhaps the possibility of experimentation with his influence. He hadn’t expected much of her; he wasn’t easily impressed, and had learned not to get his hopes up. But the moment he had met her, seen her intensity and been at the end of her brutal honesty, he cancelled all of his other meetings.

Over their past appointments they gradually began to know more about each other, and Hannibal was fascinated in the way she easily slipped herself inside his brain and began pulling him apart. She pushed rather than retreated. Hannibal purposefully gave her very little to work with, and yet she somehow was able to coax more out of him than he gave. Two weeks ago she began offering him wine at the end of their sessions, and Hannibal was deeply pleased both with her collection, and with her general presence. She was practically perfect in how she carried herself. The epitome of polite, yet honest. Hannibal was elated at the possibilities of what she could further become.

But now as she spoke to him, he felt a strange ripple of disappointment flicker through his mind. How he looked forward to seeing her, studying her as she studied him, of their routine.

"Are you unwell, Dr. Du Maurier?"

She breathed deeply over the phone, her nose sniffling. ”Yes. And I do not wish to make anyone else sick. My sincerest apologies, Hannibal. I was looking forward to speaking with you tomorrow.”

"Myself as well. Is there anything I can bring you?" Hannibal suspected she didn’t leave her house much. From how she shut herself in, how she prowled her domain with such ease, he wondered if she suffered from a fear of being removed from it. Plants lined every wall of her kitchen, and a gorgeous indoor pool graced the lower floor of her home. How she tended to herself there, alone, fascinated him. What caused her to be so inclined to seek the comfort of those walls? Why did she practice within her home instead of safely opting for a separate location? Hannibal knew better than to ask as much, but he desired to understand.

"No, I don’t believe so. But thank you for offering. I will see you next week, of course."

"Of course. Goodbye, Dr. Du Maurier."

Hannibal had no intentions of leaving their next meeting a week away. Now was his chance to turn the lens more critically on _her_. An immediate trip to his pantry uncovered all that he would need; from her voice, it sounded like nothing more than a cold. But with that came the possibilities of headaches, swelling of the lymph nodes, and all manner of minor pains. He laid the ingredients out carefully, measuring, mixing, testing. Once the balance was achieved, he prepared himself a means of which to transport his creation to her.

When a knocking came at her door at precisely the time Hannibal’s appointment usually began, Bedelia feared that she had forgotten to call. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she had, the state she was in. She was so miserably ill, she could hardly tell what she had eaten that morning.

She answered the door carefully, surprised (but also not) to find Hannibal standing there, a beautiful tea set balancing on a covered tray in his hands.

"Do not worry, Dr. Du Maurier. I remembered that you cancelled our appointment."

Bedelia half retreated behind her door at the sight of him, trying to conceal herself. She was dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a matching long-sleeve shirt, and while they were still nice, it was not the image she wanted to present to her patients. She was supposed to be a constant, a perfection. Now she felt anything but, her throat swollen, her eyes red, her nose running.

"Hannibal, why are you here?" He could sense her embarrassment, and smiled as he filed it deeply within his mind.

"I am here not as your patient today," he reassured her, "but as a colleague."

"A colleague?"

"We both practice psychiatry. Are we not then colleagues in the same field?"

Bedelia hesitated before she opened the door fully, nodding her head. Hannibal accepted her invitation and stepped inside.

"A special tea," he explained as she sat on the couch in her living room, Hannibal laying out the tray on her coffee table. "Mixed to help bolster the immune system."

Bedelia watched as he prepared two cups, swirling a small portion of honey in one before handing it to her. She accepted it graciously, the liquid warming her hands through the delicate porcelain. She could not smell, but a brief sip allowed the taste to bloom across her tongue.

"It’s wonderful, thank you."

"It should ideally be ingested at the first signs of illness, but it’s properties still have beneficial effects. I have prepared your own tin for you," he said as he settled next to her, gesturing to the metal box at the teapot’s side.

"I had no idea you were so proficient a tea blender," she said with a smile, taking another deep sip. "Anything to do with that exquisite sense of smell you have?"

"I excel at understanding flavors and ingredients, and cataloging them. I can then easily recall what should be prepared with what. My proficiency lends itself far beyond tea."

Bedelia hummed, closing her eyes as she held the cup between her hands. ”I must admit,” she began, “I am a bit embarrassed that you are seeing me in such a state, so early in our relationship.”

"Please," Hannibal spoke as he studied his unguarded psychiatrist, "do not be. It is a natural fact of the body that it becomes susceptible to infection and influence. If anything, it only reassures me."

"Reassures you of what?"

"Would you like another cup?" He offered instead after a moment, darkness flickering behind his eyes.

Years later, and many, many miles and appointments away, Hannibal massaged his temples as he sat in the library of his new residence in Italy. A pressure was building behind his eyes, one that radiated down to his neck. A sniffling in his nose and a swelling in his throat confirmed what he was afraid of.

"Here," Bedelia spoke gently as she entered the library, carrying a small tray with a teapot and two cups. "A special tea," she explained as she set the tray before him, "mixed to help bolster the immune system."

Hannibal smiled as she mimicked his motions from so long ago. The scent of the tea was familiar, and he could tell that she had perfected the balance of what he had once given her. ”Bedelia. I had no idea you could blend tea.”

"I can’t," she admitted with a grin, "but I have an excellent memory, Hannibal. Perhaps too excellent for my own good. I remembered the consistency of what you gave me, of the shapes, of the flavors. It took me a while, but I believe I was able to re-create it."

She presented him a cup, and Hannibal nodded. ”I believe you are right.” A single sip cemented this belief, and Bedelia sat next to him drinking her own.

"And now I fully understand."

"Understand what?" He asked, drinking again.

"About being reassured with the body’s own weakness." A wicked smile escaped her lips.

Hannibal felt something akin to pride burst inside his chest as he lowered his eyes and finished his tea.


End file.
